


A Goal with an Assist

by vanillalime



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Hockey, Humor, M/M, Multiple Canon Characters - Freeform, Multiple Secondary Characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:19:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6748072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillalime/pseuds/vanillalime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McManus proposes that a hockey tournament would be an acceptable physical activity for the inmates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Goal with an Assist

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my LiveJournal in July 2014. Written for the Oz Prompt-A-Thon 2014.

"A hockey tournament?"  
  
"Leo, I  _swear_  it's worked well in other prisons!" McManus proclaimed enthusiastically.  
  
Sister Pete leaned towards Dr. Nathan and murmured, "Didn't someone end up brain-dead the last time we tried something like this?"  
  
Glynn continued to look at McManus. "These other prisons—they didn't experience any major incidents or problems between the players?" he asked skeptically.  
  
"No! Not... really."  
  
Glynn sighed. "I don't know, Tim..."  
  
"Look, the inmates will all be wearing plenty of pads. They'll have to wear gloves and helmets with masks. I'll personally inspect all the hockey sticks. Hockey's bad reputation for being too violent is blown out of proportion and perpetuated by people who don't understand the sport."  
  
"Oh, is that right? Is there anyone else here, besides you, who 'understands' hockey?"  
  
McManus clapped his hands together in excitement. "Sean and I played hockey together for years when we were kids in upstate New York. We're practically Canadians when it comes to this stuff. We could even be the referees for the tournament."  
  
Everyone turned to look at Murphy. He looked down at the table and tugged at his shirt collar.  
  
"What do you think about all this, Sean?" asked Glynn. "Does this sound like a good way for the prisoners to work out their aggressive tendencies in a controlled environment?"  
  
Murphy turned his head and coughed a few times. Clearing his throat, he said, "Well, Tim always has my full support."  
  
"That's for sure," snickered Howell.  
  
Glynn shrugged. "Okay, then, I guess it's worth a try."

*~*~*~*~*

"Hey, Murphy! What’s up with the fancy designs on these goalie helmets? I only signed up because I wanted to wear the Friday the 13th Jason mask."  
"Are you serious? What year do you think this is? 1980?"  
"Well, fuck, I'm switching to wing. I'd look like a fag wearing this shit."  
"You always seem to be overly concerned about that, O'Reily."  
  
  
"Okay, everybody ready?"  
"Hey, McManus, be careful not to trip over that red line!"  
"Very funny, Claire. Thanks for your support."  
  
  
“Off-sides!”  
"Alvarez, you dumbfuck! You have to wait at the blue line until I go past it with the puck!"  
"Shit, Keller, it's hard hangin’ out here just waiting for you to come!"  
"Heh-heh, I bet that's what Beecher said last night."  
"Fuck off, Vern."  
  
  
"Icing!"  
"I remember when Mama made icing and let me lick the spoon. Chocolate was my favorite."  
"That's great, Cyril."  
  
  
"Stanislofsky! Roughing! Two minutes in the box!"  
“Jesus Christ, did Robson just spit out his front teeth?"  
"Well, at least it'll be easier for him to give those blow-jobs to Vern."  
  
  
"Hoyt! High sticking! Four-minute double minor!"  
"You gotta be fuckin' kidding me! What does he mean, high sticking? I'd like to show McManus just how high this stick can go!"  
  
  
"Keller! Checking from behind! Five-minute major!"  
"Goddammit, Chris! We're on the same fucking team!"  
"Sorry, Beech, part of me got carried away."  
"Yeah, I know which part, too!"  
  
  
"Schillinger! Ten-minute game misconduct! Butt-ending!"  
"Who didn't see that one coming?"  
"Too bad he can't get that penalty  _off_  the ice."  
  
  
"Slashing! Slashing!"  
"That wasn't slashing!"  
"No, not you! It's Wangler! He just took off his skate and is trying to slash Pancamo's throat with the blade!"  
  
  
"Okay, that's it! Game over! How many stretchers do we need?"

*~*~*~*~*

Alone in the staff's locker room, a dejected McManus sat on the bench. As he slowly removed his whistle from around his neck, he tried to figure out what went wrong. How many times must his cheerfully promising ideas be shot down by the harsh realities of life in Oz?  
  
He heard the sound of a door open and close but didn't bother to look up. He knew who it was.  
  
He felt a solid, warm body slide down next to him on the bench.  
  
"At least no one's dead," said Murphy with a sigh. "Yet," he clarified.  
  
McManus put his head in his hands. "I thought for sure this would work, Sean! Organized sports is supposed to be a great way to alleviate tensions and foster camaraderie and teamwork among prisoners!"  
  
Murphy patted McManus on the back. "It was a nice idea, Tim. It’s just that Oz ain’t exactly a place that benefits from textbook theory."  
  
McManus took note of the pleasant warmth of Murphy’s hand. He rolled his shoulders up and down and rocked his head from side to side.  
  
"Oooh, my neck and back really ache,” McManus groaned. "I guess I’m not as young as I used to be.” He looked sideways at Murphy. "Maybe a, uh, hot shower is what I need."  
  
Murphy smiled at him. "Maybe we should head back to my place," he suggested. "I could give you my special Murphy Massage, if you think that'll help. Then you could take that hot shower afterwards."  
  
McManus sat up and smiled back. "That might make me feel a little better," he agreed.  
  
They quickly gathered their things and started walking together toward the exit.  
  
McManus opened the door and paused. "You know, I still think that some kind of organized, competitive tournament for the prisoners would be a worthwhile endeavor, as long as it’s not quite as physical as hockey. And I have just the idea!"  
  
Murphy eyed him warily. "Yeah, what's that?"  
  
"Lawn darts!"


End file.
